My Broken Line
by withinreasonabledoubt
Summary: It was an odd feeling -- not at all unlike free-falling from a terrific height -- breathing your last breath.
1. Prologue: My Accidental Suicide

_**Author's Note:**__ Well hello everyone. This here is my first Scrubs fanfiction -- and while yes, the suicide/death is a tad cliche and even a little overused, I've added my own little twist that hopefully you'll all enjoy. The story takes place during their eight year, so pretty much where we all are up to now. The first chapter is a prologue of sorts, so it's rather short, but the following chapters will be longer, I promise. So if it draws you in, let me know -- heaven knows I love a bit of extra motivation. :)_

_**Pairings: **__past JD/Elliot, JD/Cox._

_**Disclaimer:**__ Everything on the planet, everything in the solar system, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything every-everything that exists past present and future, in discovered and undiscovered dimensions that relates to Scrubs, I assure you, I don't own it._

- - -

**Prologue: My Accidental Suicide**

He was just musing, really, as he held the jagged piece of glass between his thumb and index finger. Innocent curiosity with a morbid twist, a silent wondering on what it would feel like to run the edge against his skin. He wouldn't, of course, he had too much to live for. Yes, he'd had his fair share of ups and his downs like any normal person, but nothing to warrant such dramatics. No, it was all simple curiosity -- who would miss him and who wouldn't, who would attend his funeral and how they would react to the innocent, doe-eyed doctor laying sprawled across the bathroom floor, palm up and soaked with red. With a crooked smile, JD laughed and placed the broken piece of mirror on the edge of the sink before turning to step slowly into the shower. With a comfortable sigh the dark-haired doctor tilted his head back, closed his eyes and let his mind wander.

How _would _they react?

Elliot would undoubtedly cry amidst a colourful array of angry fricks and high-pitched insults about how selfish he was for killing himself. Turk would be devastated, after all, they'd already lost Caramel Bear, not to mention they were in a very, very serious bromance. They were the gayest straight couple the world had ever encountered, and as corny as it sounded, there was no Turk without his JD, and no JD without his Turk. JD craned his head to rest against his shoulder and reached forward for his dolphin shaped soap-on-a-rope. Carla would take everyone under her wing, offering sympathy and advise she herself couldn't follow. The Janitor would likely graffiti "Here Lies Scooter" in bright red on his coffin, his final move in their twisted game of cat-and-mouse. Kim would be upset, he was the father of their child after all, but she'd survive -- she was strong that way. Ted would probably commend him on doing what he never could and promise to follow him soon, though he did have Gooch now, so maybe not. Dr. Cox was Dr. Cox and would react as such. He'd probably thank him for putting him out of his eight-year misery and laugh at how much of a drama queen JD was, emphasis on the queen. You know, because he's a girl and all.

Twisting the taps back, first the red, then the blue, JD stepped from the shower and pulled a towel from beside the sink. Rubbing it against his face, JD laughed again -- he'd totally forgotten, who would look after Steven? And Justin? Justin wouldn't be able to handle such a tragedy, it'd tear his unicorn heart apart and he couldn't expect Turk to look after both Steven _and _Rowdy. No, JD definitely had to stay. Flicking his hair back from his face, JD, still deep in thought, stepped backwards and gave a strangled cry as his foot slid against the tiles. In an attempt to stop himself from smacking against the tiles, JD reached his hands forward to grasp at the sink, his legs folded painfully against his sides. He saw the shard of glass jutting obtrusively from his wrist before he saw the angry red lines trickling down his arm, and for a moment JD forgot to breathe. In shock, the frazzled doctor stumbled backwards, his feet sliding out from underneath his body as his head came crashing down against the edge of the bathtub.

It was an odd feeling -- not at all unlike free-falling from a terrific height -- breathing your last breath. It was almost as if everything in the world, everything you lived for stopped with your end. As if time, progressive, changing at the speed at which it always has and always will, shuddered to a halt for one brief moment to mourn your loss. And then, as quickly as it had happened, JD was standing in his bathroom staring down at his lifeless body.

- - -

_**Author's note:**__ Yes, I'm afraid that's it for now. Oh, the irony that is JD. Don't hesitate to tell me what you think thus far, reviews are food for my hungry, hungry soul. The story seems a little dark right now, I know, but it will have a lighter feel to it as it continues on. That's all from me for now, folks, until next time. C:_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note:**__ Thanks for the feedback, guys. Reviews are greatly appreciated. As promised, this chapter is longer. It's a little more angsty than I had anticipated, but it really get lighter. You can't expect happiness after death, after all. So, without further ado, here is chapter two. I hope you enjoy it. Stay awesome. :)_

_**Disclaimer:**__ Everything on the planet, everything in the solar system, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything every-everything that exists past present and future, in discovered and undiscovered dimensions that relates to Scrubs, I assure you, I don't own it._

- - -

**Chapter Two: My Sticky Truce**

JD had watched as his best friend came charging through the door, his expression crumpling into horror. He watched as Turk began chest compressions and yelled at Carla to call an ambulance. He watched as the paramedics called his time of death and carried his body away. He watched as Carla sobbed quietly into Turk's shoulder, his arms wrapped firmly around her waist. Neither person spoke -- like JD, they simply watched as their friend was carried away. Turk's expression shifted from agony to pain to anger with each sob that wracked his wife's body, and JD wanted nothing more than to shake him and yell at him for honestly thinking that he would do this to them. Instead, the deceased doctor moved towards the pair, his hand ghosting forward to squeeze Turk's shoulder. He couldn't help but smile at the fact that his hand didn't travel straight through his shoulder (_take that John Edwards!_), but it was little comfort when Turk didn't react to his touch.

* * *

A week had passed and JD had naturally taken to following his friends around. There wasn't much else he could do, really. No one could see him, no one could hear him and in all honestly, he liked being around them, even if they couldn't see him.

No one had really spoken about his death. Perhaps they had said all they needed to at his funeral, a function he hadn't attended because it just didn't seem right for him to attend his own funeral. Still, it felt a little disheartening that they didn't discuss his existence at all. He had been there friend, hadn't he? Maybe he was just being selfish, but he figured he warranted a little discussion. He'd spent so much time with these people, had they really moved on this quickly? Suddenly, JD was jerked from his thoughts as Turk slammed down a pile of papers on the desk in front of him.

"I can't believe this, baby."

Carla looked up from her clipboard. "What's wrong?"

"They ruled out accidental death, how could they rule out accidental death? There's no way-"

"Turk-"

"No, Carla. I mean, come on, this is JD we're talking about. Our geeky, Journey loving -" JD made a _dude-you-know-they-rock_ face, "decoder ring wearing JD. I mean, baby he carried around a diary with a unicorn on the front. He wouldn't do something like this. How could they possibly -"

"I don't know there Ghandi, but I'm gunna go ahead and say it's because you found him lying in a pool of his own blood."

Everyone in the room fell silent. JD stared at his mentor with a hurt frown, his breath hitching in his chest. Still, they were talking about him and that was comforting, even if Dr. Cox was being a Jerky McJerk face. Carla made a loud huffing noise and stood, her chair scraping angrily behind her. She leant forward to yell or snap or do something at Dr. Cox (after all, her hand was raised and her finger was pointed and when Carla did that she meant serious business), but suddenly hesitated, her nose wrinkling.

"Dr. Cox, have you been drinking?"

Dr. Cox shoved a chart into Carla's chest with a growl and turned on his heel. Carla fell backwards, grasping the chart in her left hand and rubbing her face with the right. Turk watched Dr. Cox's retreating back with a mixture of pity and anger before turning back to his wife, his eyes half closed.

"I think I'm going to take a leaf out of Elliot's book and take a few days off. I've tried the whole being silent and dealing with it thing but baby, it's just not working. JD was my best friend, no, JD _is_ my best friend and- and-"

"It's okay, go home and I'll let Dr. Cox know."

Turk bent down to place a chaste kiss on Carla's cheek, his fingers wrapping affectionately around her wrist before shuffling off. Carla leant back against the wall with a sigh, her lower lip trembling and her hands clenched at her sides; the sight damn near broke JD's heart. It was torture having to watch their usually happy faces twisted into sadness, but it was worse knowing it was his fault. JD ran a hand over his face, his fingers rubbing at his eyes to stop himself from crying because yes, he could cry. Being dead was a lot different than what he had imagined. He'd imagined walking through walls and not having to perform normal human functions, but it wasn't like that at all. Everything was normal, excruciatingly so; he could touch and feel and breathe and cry. In fact the only things he didn't need to do were eat and, well, everything that follows eating. He wasn't sure if it was compulsory to breathe or not, but it was a habit so he did it anyway. In all honesty, being dead was a lot like living -- you felt the same emotions and the same fears and you certainly felt the same pain, the only difference was that you had no one to experience it with. No one could see you to hold your hand and tell you that everything was going to be okay. It was like his own personal hell; complete and utter solitary confinement from the world. JD once again jerked back from his thoughts at the sound of Carla throwing a pen he didn't know she was holding. He blanched as the object went straight through his chest, but it made sense that it didn't bounce off his body, he imagined that would look a _little _abnormal. He watched as she lowered her head into her hands and he felt his heart twist.

"Bambi.." she whispered to no one and everyone, her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth pulled tight.

"I'm sorry," JD whispered, moving forward to place his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry." He felt his throat tighten with pride as Carla straightened, wiping her eyes against her sleeve and turning to march towards Dr. Cox's office. That was Carla through and through, though, all fire. JD moved to follow her but found himself distracted by the Janitor who had just turned the corner carrying what looked suspiciously like -- _his diary_. Skidding to a halt and turning to quickly power walk after him, JD felt a sudden surge of both realization and anger. That's how he knew everything about his life. JD followed him into the change rooms and silently wondered that if he mustered enough strength he could push all of the lockers onto the Janitor and smoosh him into the ground. He giggled a manly giggle as the Janitor's arm reached out from under the wreckage with a small picket sign reading "Ouch". Shaking his head, JD watched as the custodian broke easily into his locker and suddenly his anger boiled over.

"For God's sake, who steals a dead guy's diary?" He yelled, his teeth clenched and his fingers curled into his palms.

The Janitor flicked the diary open gingerly and pulled a small penny from his pocket, placing it against a blank page and taping it down. JD frowned in confusion, moving forward to peer curiously over the Janitor's shoulder; as the Janitor was so tall, this actually consisted of him climbing awkwardly onto a bench and carefully balancing himself on his toes. It was then that JD witnessed something truly amazing -- written beneath the penny in messy, haphazard scrawl was: "_Don't Stop Believin', Scooter_". The Janitor flicked the diary shut and placed it inside the locker before pulling a brand-new combination lock from his belt and snapping it onto the locker. JD couldn't help but laugh -- he supposed this was the Janitor's way of calling a truce, and even though he knew the man wouldn't feel it, JD placed his hand against his shoulder and gave it a gentle shake.

_Damnit, Carla._

Without a second thought, JD sprinted from the room and up the hall, unaware of the now confused Janitor with his hand pressed against his shoulder. The dark-haired doctor grasped onto the door-frame of Dr. Cox's office to steady himself (having sprinted what felt like a marathon), before sliding into his office.

"-because he needs time off, Dr. Cox. He's mourning the loss if his best friend."

"We're all mourning, Carla. Some of us just know how to suck it up and deal with it better than others."

"Just because you don't care about him doesn't mean-"

"Don't care?" Dr. Cox repeated, his lips thinning and his voice cracking. Carla shrank back, her arms lowering. "I care, Carla, believe me I do. But you can't, you just can't start blaming yourself for other people's deaths. Should I have been kinder, should I have listened more, should I have called more, should I have taken more time out to be with them. Should I, shouldn't I, it all ends the same. The fact remains that we are all selfish, we are all self-centered and we all care about ourselves more than anything else in the world and if you go down that road you're never coming back."

Carla looked down at her feet, and suddenly JD realized something. They were all blaming themselves. They were all blaming themselves for his suicide, his suicide that wasn't even a real suicide. JD rolled his head back onto his shoulders and closed his eyes. Why was this happening? Why the hell was he still here? He opened his eyes only to realize that Carla had left, leaving Dr. Cox staring at the door with a vacant, expressionless expression. It was the most heartbreaking thing JD had ever seen.

"It's not your fault." JD whispered, taking a step forward. "It's not."

Dr. Cox simply stared at the door, and then, all of a sudden, his chair whipped out from underneath his desk and smashed against his wall. JD yelled and leapt forward, his eyes trailing over the broken piece of wood that littered the ground. The older doctor moved to rip the blinds from their hinges, ignoring the graze it left against his hands before moving forward to tip his desk over, a storm of papers and files filling the room like a brilliant snowstorm. JD stood, slack-jawed and horrified as his mentor tore through his office like a tornado, relentless and terrifying. Slowly, the last piece of paper fell to the ground, revealing a grief-stricken Dr. Cox with his hands raised to rest behind his head and his eyes closed.

"Damnit, JD."

- - -

_**Author's Note:**__ And that's all for now. By the way, the "Don't Stop Believin'" reference was to the Journey song of the same name. I figured that JD would have written about it in his diary at some point, or the Janitor would have simply overheard him talking about/singing it at some point. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Keep the encouragement coming. Until next time. :D_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note:**__ Oh wow, thank you so much for the amazing reviews. I'm blown away by the response, I really am. Each review sincerely made my day. I appreciate each and every one. Anyway, here's chapter three as promised – sorry for the delay, my computer's hard-drive is corrupt so it's currently gathering dust while we try to figure out what the heck went wrong. On top of that, the Victorian fires had been creeping uncomfortably close so we were all on our toes -- a couple of friends were made to evacuate, so hopefully everything is okay. I've nicked my dad's laptop to type up this chapter and I hope it doesn't disappoint. I intend to update every week, if that's all good with you guys? That's enough from me, I hope you enjoy chapter three!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ Everything on the planet, everything in the solar system, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything every-everything that exists past present and future, in discovered and undiscovered dimensions that relates to Scrubs, I assure you, I don't own it._

- - - -

**Chapter Three: My Reappearing Act**

After his violent outburst, JD had followed Dr. Cox home. The chief of medicine hadn't lingered at the hospital for long, pausing only to heave a still-intact picture frame at the wall before strolling out of his office. No one questioned him when he left without a word, in fact no one even lifted their gaze. Perhaps they expected it; it was, after all, general knowledge that the man was emotionally crippled and that him expressing his distress with destruction wasn't uncommon, or perhaps it was now _so _common that they no longer cared. JD opened the passenger-side door to Dr. Cox's Porsche, stepping in to sit cross-legged against the seat, followed closely by Dr. Cox. JD wanted to laugh at the fact that he was now sitting in the banned front seat of his mentor's car but somehow he couldn't bring himself to that point, and now that he was over the initial shock of watching his mentor destroy his office he was beginning to notice things he hadn't before. Like the way Dr. Cox's collar bone had become more prominent, or the dark circles that had appeared underneath his eyes. Like the way he hands trembled against the steering wheel. JD looked over him critically, unblinking, his body still and unmoving as the car travelled; it was unnerving how desperately empty the mourning doctor's eyes were, and JD found himself terrified.

The car pulled to a stop, and for a moment it seemed as if Dr. Cox had no intention of actually getting out. The doctor just stared at his hands, his knuckles white against the steering wheel and his mouth curled. JD pulled his knees to his chest to stop himself from leaning forward and slapping him because for God's sake, _he _was the dead one.

"Come on, Dr. Cox. Once you go down that path there's no coming back, remember?"

JD hugged his legs tightly, and after what felt like hours, Dr. Cox finally shifted himself from the car, slamming the door shut with his right hand and fumbling for his keys with the other. JD practically threw himself out of the car to follow the man, relieved that he had finally moved and that he was actually getting to enter Dr. Cox's house without having to disguise himself. He had conveniently forgotten that he was in fact invisible and not being invited into Dr. Cox's house willingly, but let's face it, even if he chose to remember he wouldn't have cared. Still following closely behind, JD subconsciously dodged the door that swung back at him with an awkward side-step. Apparently even the dead were clumsy. _Dead clumsy_, the deceased doctor thought, giggling to himself quietly before returning his attention to Dr. Cox who had reached forward for a glass and a bottle of scotch.

"Jesus, Newbie."

JD watched his mentor throw three glasses of scotch back, pausing only to wince at the burning it undoubtedly left in his throat. Dr. Cox moved towards his couch and sat, taking only his bottle of scotch and cradeling it against his chest. JD frowned and slowly made his way to sit beside him, his eyes never once leaving the older man. He wanted to grab the bottle and smash it against the wall, to grab Dr. Cox by his shoulders and tell him to snap out of it because damnit, he'd never let something like this bring him down. Not again. He's always the unstoppable force. He's always the strong one. He's always the hero.

"Oh, fantastic, now I'm seeing things."

JD stared pointedly at Dr. Cox, struck speechless. His expression was one of disbelief, completely undignified with his mouth hanging open and his eyes comically wide. What did he just say? Surely he couldn't— no, that wouldn't make sense. That wouldn't make any sense at all.

"As if Ben wasn't enough. You're losing your mind, Perry, slowly but surely losing your mind."

Dr. Cox lifted the bottle to his mouth, his eyes glassy and unfocused. _Where do you think we are?_ JD shifted closer, the smell of alcohol almost suffocating as Dr. Cox lowered the bottle to rest against his side.

"Dr. Cox, can you— can you see me?" JD asked tentatively, almost embarrassed by the question that lingered in the air.

"And hearing things. The hell are you doing to me, Newbie?"

JD let out a deep breath, his hand coming up to run through his hair. He couldn't believe this. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening, this didn't make sense – this right here was all kinds of crazy. Why was it only now that Dr. Cox could see him, and why him of all people? Hold on, could everyone see him now? JD couldn't help but grin as he scooted closer still, his breathing erratic.

"Oh my God, Dr. Cox, I can't believe this. This is wonderful. This is more than wonderful, it's fantastic. This is— Dr. Cox if you keep drinking that like its water you're going to end up as dead as I am."

Dr. Cox turned to face JD with a tortured expression.

"Too soon?"

Dr. Cox placed the bottle down against the coffee table and arranged himself so that his entire body was facing the excited, doe-eyed doctor.

"M'kay, I'm going to humour you here, subconscious. Whattaya want to tell me? That I'm crazy? Because trust me, I'm wa-hay ahead of you." JD stared at his mentor incredulously, his expression crumbling. Did he really think he was imagining this?

"I'm not your subconscious, Dr. Cox. I don't— I don't know how this is happening, why you're all of a sudden able to see me, but this isn't inside of your head. I'm here, I'm really here."

Dr. Cox closed his eyes, and for a second JD thought he was about to smile or cry or laugh. Instead he simply sat there, his eyes closed and his body still, unmoving apart from the slow, rhythmic rising and falling of his chest. JD opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find the words, startled by his mentor's inability to believe that he was actually talking to his protégé. His very dead protégé, but his protégé nonetheless.

"I didn't kill myself, you know."

JD hadn't registered the words that had come from his mouth until Dr. Cox's eyes snapped open, dumstruck. He cocked his head to the side with a confused frown.

"Excuse me? What was that?"

"I.. I didn't kill myself. I'd broken my mirror earlier that morning, and I was -" he hesitated, his gaze flickering to Dr. Cox momentarily. "I was inspecting it, and I placed it on the sink when I went to have my shower. When I finished, I stepped backwards and grabbed the sink to stop myself from falling. The glass went through my wrist and in shock I stumbled backwards and slipped, hitting my head on the bathtub. I was knocked unconscious and bled out."

Dr. Cox stared at JD, his frown deepening. "You didn't kill yourself?"

"I did not."

Dr. Cox lowered his head into his hands with a sigh. "This doesn't make sense. You're dead."

"I am," JD said with a nod. "I don't understand it either, but I do know that I don't want to waste this. Me becoming visible happened so quickly and maybe I'll disappear just as fast. I don't want to waste this moment with you, Dr. Cox."

"Ever the girl, Clara."

JD made a face, but he wasn't offended. Hell, he was glad that Dr. Cox was calling him girls' names again, because maybe, just maybe he was starting to believe that this was actually happening. JD turned to look at the half-empty bottle sitting against the table and raised an accusing eyebrow.

"I told you you cared."

Oh, that got a reaction. Dr. Cox flicked his nose and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Just in case you forgot, princess, you died. You know? Deceased, dead-ski, gone-o." Dr. Cox reached forward for the bottle of scotch, still clearly unable to get his head around what was happening, but was stopped suddenly by JD's hand. He looked up in bewilderment, but the younger doctor simply pushed down on his mentor's hand until the bottle was back on the table.

"You've had enough." He said simply, tilting his head to the left.

"Oh ho, and since when are you my mother, Cynthia? And – and how come you can touch me?" Dr. Cox asked, opening his mouth to ask a following question but instead hesitating, the question dying on his lips.

"I don't know, I can touch most things. I've rubbed Turk and Carla's shoulders, they just can't feel me. I can feel them, though." JD shrugged and picked at a loose thread on his scrubs. Luckily for him, the clothes he was buried in were transferred into the afterlife – he didn't relish the thought of walking around naked, and his scrubs were mighty comfortable. He was curious as to why he had been buried in his scrubs, though, and not the traditional suit. Shaking his head, JD returned his attention to the man beside him; Dr. Cox was wearing an odd expression that the younger doctor couldn't quite define, and before he could give the look any more thought Dr. Cox had leant back against the couch and closed his eyes once more.

"Have you been to see Sam?"

JD felt a sudden pang of guilt and began plucking more vigorously at the thread. "No, uh, I haven't. I keep meaning to, I mean, I want to, I just – of everyone, he's the hardest. He's going to grow up without a father, you know? And that's hard for me, not being able to be there for his first words and his first steps, at his graduation and at his wedding."

"Y'will be, JD."

"Not physically." JD sighed and twisted so that his legs were curled underneath his thighs. Dr. Cox leant his head back with an unintelligible groan and JD could tell that the scotch was finally beginning to kick in. The darker-haired doctor knew that time wasn't on his side, but he couldn't help but wonder why his mentor was alone. Surely Jordan hadn't left him? Not while he was mourning the death of his colleague?

"Dr. Cox? Where's Jordan?" He asked as gently.

"At her mother's," he mumbled, twisting to look at JD. "Said she didn't want Jack an' Jennifer 'round me when I'm like this. Cn' say I blame her." JD sighed and nodded before removing himself from the couch and standing in front of the inebriated doctor. Extended his hands and earning a what-the-hell-are-you-doing look from his mentor, JD quirked his lip into a half smile and raised his eyebrows.

"Take my hands, you're very drunk and you're very going to bed." Instead of waiting for what would undoubtedly be an insult to his manhood, JD bent down and took Dr. Cox's hands in his. He wrapped his arm around the other man's waist and began to guide him towards what he hoped was his bedroom.

"I canna feel you, you know." Dr. Cox slurred, leaning against JD exaggeratedly to prove his point. JD smiled a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I know."

When they reached what was, thank God, Dr. Cox's room, JD manoeuvred himself around the bed and gently pushed the other man against it. He bent down to slide Dr. Cox's shoes off, placing them neatly beside the bedside table and pushing against the doctor's chest to lay him down. Dr. Cox gave what JD liked to think was a grateful smile, but was probably more along the lines of a shit-eating, I'm-never-going-to-let-you-live-this-down smile. JD sat against the bed with a sigh and pulled the blanket up to his mentor's shoulders, his neck craning to watch the man affectionately.

"Such a girl." Dr. Cox mumbled into his pillow.

- - - -

The early morning sun dotted the two sleeping doctors, Dr. Cox with his knees drawn up to his chest and his hands snaked under his pillow and JD with his chest inches from the Dr. Cox's back and his legs bent into the space left by the older doctor's knees. JD was the first to awaken, and even though he had watched Dr. Cox sleep through most of the night (to which he told himself was only to make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit), he felt surprisingly refreshed. JD shifted into a kneeling position when he felt Dr. Cox shift, his hands clasped together.

"Good morning sunshine," he grinned, extending his arms for added emphasis. Dr. Cox stretched and arched his back with a yawn before moving from the bed, ignoring JD's greeting. Okay, so he wasn't a morning person, that's fine. JD leapt from the bed and padded after Dr. Cox, running a hand through his hair.

"How are you feeling?" JD asked with a hint of concern, sidling over to stand beside Dr. Cox. Once again, Dr. Cox said nothing. JD frowned and crossed his arms over his chest; the man was _dead_, surely he deserved a response? Hell, he'd take a rant over this.

"Have I done something wrong?"

Dr. Cox ran a hand through his hair and glanced at the clock. JD followed his gaze and frowned – okay, so he was late for work, that's still no reason to ignore him. He watched the doctor throw on his lab coat and give himself a once over in the mirror before grabbing his keys and making for the door. JD watched as Dr. Cox opened the door and looked over his shoulder, meeting JD's offended gaze; it was then that JD realized what was happening. Dr. Cox wasn't looking _at_ JD, he was looking _through_ him.

JD felt his heart drop into his stomach. He couldn't see him. He couldn't see him. He couldn't see him. No matter how many times he said it, it just didn't make sense. Then again, Dr. Cox seeing him in the first place didn't make sense. Were the divine forces having a field day? Laughing at the poor little dead doctor, giving him a taste before quickly snatching it away? JD groaned and leant his head against the wall, digging his hands into his pocket and — what was that? JD wrapped his hand around whatever it was in his pocket and pulled it out, holding it out in front of him.

A pen?

Didn't they think to look through his pockets before dressing him? JD clicked the pen in frustration and raised his hand, ready to throw the offending object at the wall when he had a sudden idea. Maybe, just maybe – he gave the house a quick glance before moving towards a pile of papers set against the bench. JD grabbed the nearest sheet and scrawled a note against it, his eyes closing in silent prayer that this would actually work.

- - - -

Dr. Cox kicked the door to his house open with a grunt, throwing his keys and coat at the wall. JD sat cross-legged against the kitchen bench, his lip worrying between his teeth. Just as he had predicted, Dr. Cox immediately made his way towards his bottle of scotch. He lifted the bottle from the table and collapsed against the couch, leaning forward. He froze in his actions as his eyes fell upon the piece of paper that had been resting underneath his bottle of scotch and, placing the bottle back down, he brought the paper to rest in front of him.

"**I'm still here."**

- - - -

_**Author's note:**__ And that's it from me, folks. Loved it? Hated it? Hopefully the prior. Poor JD, he has no idea what's going on here. First the Janitor (which he actually doesn't know about), and now Dr. Cox? Surely there's a pattern? Oh, the mystery. And just for further reference, the "where do you think we are" reference in italics refers to episode "My Screw Up" in which JD asks where Dr. Cox thinks they are, as Dr. Cox thinks they are at Jack's birthday party when they are in fact at Ben's funeral. Until next time! :)_


End file.
